


A decade

by madeinfrance



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23769214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeinfrance/pseuds/madeinfrance
Summary: In the light of reality, some promises leave a bittersweet taste that will probably linger for a long time.Nadia x Guzmán, post-season 3.
Relationships: Guzmán Nunier Osuna/Nadia Shana
Comments: 12
Kudos: 148





	A decade

**i.** The first time they actually see each other again, more than a year has passed.

Nadia isn’t one for sensationalism, quite the contrary, but it feels like an out of body experience. The whole thing does, really: getting out of the plane, being back home, holding her parents. The accumulated fatigue from the exams, the flight and the jetlag aren’t helping, of course, but still - it’s more than that.

It’s that feeling of coming back to a life that’s yours, always has been, and yet, is not really, anymore.

She’s lived things, seen things, learnt to evolve in another reality with people she didn’t know, and who didn’t know her, didn’t expect anything from her except what she was willing to show and be and give.

She’s gone from the only home she’s ever known and into the world, from the perfect daughter who bent to expectations to a woman who’ll try and stay true to her values and goals, but will do it her way.

It wasn’t just New-York, of course. It was everything that happened, everything she lived through - everything _they_ lived through. None of them had escaped Las Encinas the same.

Two days after her return, Rebe’s having a party. “Everyone will be here. _Everyone,_ ” and even if Nadia rolls her eyes at her friend’s lack of subtility, her stomach still does that flip thing.

Half fear, half excitement, she thinks. Nerves, too - a lot of them.

They’d talked, of course. She’d managed to keep in touch with everyone, Samuel, Rebe. With him. Lu jokes that she always knows whenever he texts or calls her, just by that particular smile that always grows on her face when her phone lights up with his name.

She’s been telling him about her New-York life, about the freedom, and how homesick she could get. He's been telling her about the new students, how it still felt like the pain could swallow him whole sometimes, and how days where it seemed like life could go on were coming by more and more often with time. Nadia thanked both her god and his for Skype, Messenger and the other various video chats applications, because seeing his face was still the best part of her day. 

As wonderful as everything turned out to be, being so far away from home wasn’t always easy, but all of this - all of _him_ , from the silly selfies to the night calls where she’d hear him fall asleep, breathing deepening - it helped. She tried not to dwell on just how much it did.

Of course, things weren’t clear - still aren’t (when have they been, really?). But she’s more than happy not to dwell on that, either.

It’s easy to forget that she’ll be in New-York for the years to come, that he’ll probably be in another part of the world pursuing hiw own goals. It’s more simple, to pretend like life will continue just like this, despite new people, new things to experience, to discover in both of their lives. It’s less painful to just hide under her covers, his face on her screen lighting up her sheets, telling him things she wants to tell nobody but him, rather than remember that some day soon, things won’t be like that any more.

Not because she doesn’t want to, not because he doesn’t, but because it’s that thing called life, and it ought to be like this. In the light of reality, some promises leave a bittersweet taste that will probably linger for a long time.

Of course, whatever the conversation, Nadia has always made sure to stay away from this particular topic, happy to stay in the present, oblivious of the future. He never said anything, either, and that was that.

Yet, now standing almost frozen at the end of Rebeka’s street, she wonders if denial was such a good idea after all. 

But then Samu’s here, holding her up and close, swirling her around and telling her how glad he is to see her, and as they finally go in, arm in arm, those thoughts disappear, at least for a while.

She’s not exactly sure how much time has passed when the voice she’s been longing to hear all night raises behind her.

“Funny seeing you here,” and, just like that, her heart stops. Actually stops.

Guzmán’s smiling, and she’s not sure what idiotic thing he says next before she throws her arms around him, holding as tight as she can. Feeling like coming home, a second time.

It’s one of the best nights of her life. At the exception of Lu, everyone is here, and she’s ecstatic - Samu, eyes shining as he makes Carla smile. Rebeka, the heart and soul of the party, Valerio giving everything he has, sweaty and cheering next to her. Ander, holding on to her brother.

The music is loud, the summer night is hot, they’re dancing and singing badly to lyrics they don’t know. His hands travel on her hips and arms and cheeks, and Nadia doubts things could get any better than this.

She’s not exactly sure who kisses who first, certain that she doesn’t care in the least. She feels his smile against hers again and again, her fingers in that soft hair of his. The goosebumps on her arms from the way his grab her neck make her giddy.

She catches up with people from their class, meet their classmates from this year, hugs Rebe, lets Omar pick her off the ground, repeating over and over how much he missed her.

She’s with him. She’s having trouble believing it, but after thirteen damn months, it’s happening - she’s with him.

At one point, Ander whistles as he passes them in the hallway, telling them to get a room with a knowing smirk. Guzmán flips him off, and Nadia grins against his jaw as she keeps doing what she’s doing, hands tight on his shirt to keep him close.

“He’s not completely wrong, though,” he manages, and her smile grows at how breathless he sounds.

Then, at his next words. “My parents aren’t in town.”

As she crosses his treshhold, she realises that she’s never been in his new house before. The lights are off, and she doesn’t see much, apart from a couple of plants and a few photos.

Marina’s smile is as bright as she remembers.

He doesn’t seem to intend to give her a tour, at least not right now, his hand in hers leading her upstairs right away. Nadia’s fine with that.

When she wakes up the next day, the morning light coming to tickle her skin, it takes her a few seconds to make sense of her surroundings.

There’s a desk, a chair, blue curtains. Clothes on the floor.

There’s also a solid weight behind her, a soft, regular breathing on her nape, and Nadia bites her lip as she watches her fingers close tighter around his, his arm pillowing her head. His other hand rests on her stomach, and she figures it’s as good a morning as she’ll ever get.

She turns in his embrace, careful, so careful not to wake him. He doesn’t move, oblivious, and she lets her fingertips travel lightly on the outline of his ear, his jaw, his eyebrows.

He looks so peaceful, and the thing in her chest is warm and tight at the sight. She still remembers the first time she’d seen him like this. How difficult it was to walk away. She wanted to remember every detail, every line, every curve perfectly, ink it in her memory forever, and she realises now that she still does.

After a while, she kisses his nose once, twice, just like he did her many times before, eager to see the blue hidden behind his close eyelids. She moves to his forehead, his cheeks, the corner of his lips, and smiles as he finally stears, his hold on her tightening on reflex, a groan on his lips.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” and this makes him smile. He opens his eyes, and his sleepy smile gets a little bigger as he takes her in.

“It really is, yes,” and then he closes the distance, and there’s no more talking for a while.

Later, as he lays on his stomach, and she focuses on the movement of her fingers travelling on his exposed back, he worries about her parents.

“I told them I wouldn’t be coming home for the night.” 

Guzmán raises an eyebrow at that, a shit eating grin on his face. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. I figured it it was time to stop justifying and apologizing for what I want,” and the awe and happiness in his eyes make her smile too. “How about yours?”

“They’re taking a week away with their friends - they’re coming back in a few days, I think.”

If she’d blinked, she almost could have missed the hesitation on his features before he speaks again. “We’ll be away most of the summer, so they wanted to see them a little.” 

Nadia knows how his next words will feel before he even mutter them, but yet, she doesn’t quite manage to brace herself enough to avoid the torturous waking inside her stomach when he does say it.

“I’ve been accepted to LSE.”

His eyes search her face, and it vaguely occurs to her that she has no idea what he may be seeing at that moment.

She’s proud of him. 

She really is - it’s such, _such_ a good school. Perfect for what he wants to do, and he deserves it, he’s worked so hard this year. She’s happy for him. Really, she is.

Although her mouth feels a little dry, Nadia tells him that, trying as best as she can to swallow the stupid lump forming in her throat, a smile on her face.

“It really is great,” she whispers again, dropping a small peck on his lips. “Congratulations. I mean, I give it two weeks before you start to curse the London weather,” she jokes, and he chuckles. “But it’s great.”

“Yeah - Ander says I may actually get whiter, and he’s both afraid and very amused at the prospect.” He’s smiling, but his eyes don’t leave her face, and they both know she’s not fooling him.

They both know they won’t talk about it, either.

“So, when do you leave?”

This time, the mask does crack a bit. His, and hers.

“In a week.” 

The punch in the gut seems even more painful this time, somehow. “Oh.”

“Yeah... My uh - my grand-parents all came together to buy me an appartment, so my mom wants us to go there to get me all settled. And then we’ll take a family trip in Ireland and the rest of the UK before the school year starts.”

“Right.” 

It will be good for them, too. She knows how hard it can be for them sometimes, to be a family, to try and still be one without Marina, and this summer can only help.

His eyebrows furrow. “I tried post poning it, but the year starts early, and - “

“Hey - _hey._ ” Tilting his chin up, she makes him look at her again. “It’s alright, okay?” 

It’s not, of course - it really isn’t. There’s a hundred things she wants to say right now, but for his sake, she swallows them all. “It’s fine,” she says instead.

Then, smiles. “So, what have you planned for the next seven days to come, then?”

As predicted, time flies by.

They drive to the city, spend afternoons at the beach, hang out with their friends, and alone together in his room. On those days, she climbs on top of him and kisses him to her heart’s content, trying to remember every touch, every feeling. They join the others at the club at night, and if she’s gripping his shirt a little tighter, holding him a little closer, well, it’s her right.

It feels like her heart’s on her throat that last night. She can’t quite look up, but gets a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes when she explains that it’s probably best they don’t bind each other, that they shouldn’t do that to each other.

(She doesn’t tell him that she’s only saying that for him, of course. That he waited for her for two years in high school, another when she went away, and that she couldn’t handle hurting him more for years to come.

She doesn’t say that he’s never, ever stood in her way, and always helped her up instead, no matter how painful, and that now, it’s time she does the same for him.)

(She tries to tell herself that those reasons are the only ones there are, and that fear has nothing to do with it.)

Nadia doesn’t tell him any of that. Instead, she ignores her whole body protesting her words, and go through with it. 

Despite the pain in her flesh and bones, and the heartbreak he tries and fails to hide, she knows it’s the right thing to do.

**ii.** His courses go well. He loves the school, loves the city, loves the freedom that university brings.

He makes new friends, and she’s relieved, happy that everything is going well. There’s also that weight on her chest, though, and she wonders if he felt the same when she told him about the new life she was building, far away from him.

 _‘i miss you,’_ he texts her one night. It’s not the first time, and she secretly hopes it won’t be the last.

She says it back, because it’s true.

**iii.** Nadia doesn’t come back home that summer. 

One of her friends offers her to join her for a three months job in Brooklyn. It’s good money, really good, and even with her student job all year long, it wouldn’t be a luxury. So, she takes it.

Her parents decide that the following December, the three of them will come see her in New-York instead of her coming back to Spain, so they finally can see America, see where she lives. She smiles, and feels her throat tie up.

(As her mother says it, she can see the panic in Omar’s eyes at her announce over her screen, and Nadia’s grateful for the way he clumpsily tries to convince them that maybe, her coming back would be better than them going to her.

He doesn’t say why, doesn’t utter the real reason he thinks his sister would much rather come back home instead, and in the end, he fails. Still, she’s grateful he tried.)

Despite the shitty video quality this day, she can see the disappointment in Guzmán’s eyes when she tells him. He jokes about star-crossed lovers, and her smile feels as forced as his looks.

June comes. Three weeks in, and she’s exhausted. When Lu tells her she’s aging as fast as Obama during his presidency, she doesn’t even have the strenght to respond with more than a groan before she collapses head first on her bed.

Work is going well, though. The people are cool, and most of the time, it’s fun.

She meets Jim there. He’s nice, has a dark humor that manages to make her smile even on the days she feels like strangling particularly difficult clients.

They get along well, more and more so as time goes by. He’s flirting, too. It’s nice.

She doesn’t let herself think too much of it, though, because it’s nothing. It’s normal, and she should enjoy it, so she does.

When her mind does stupid things like remembering, longing, or when on her breaks, she sees smiles and arms surrounding him in Instagram stories she wishes she hadn’t seen, she thinks it’s really the best thing to do, anyway.

**iv.** They talk less and less.

It’s not intentional, not really. Not on her side, and not on his either, at least she doesn’t think so. It’s just what it always is, really - bad timing, bad circumstances, and things running their course.

(On bad days, she’ll think of blue eyes and freckles, and she’ll hate him for being so fay away, for letting things such as distance and time and life change everything. But deep down, she knows it’s really no one’s fault.)

There’s courses, exams, her job, friends and nights out. Days that turn into months, into another year.

There’s good things, though. A lot of them, actually, and she supposes it’s what’s growing up is: realizing that it can be fine, even if you hadn’t plan it like this, even if you thought you could never continue without.

But it all goes on, and there’s movie nights with Lu, courses and conferences she could spend hours listening to, the proud smiles of her parents, endless conversations with Omar over the phone. 

Date nights with Jim, who makes a point of showing her that New-York is the most romantic city in the world, Paris be damned.

Sometimes, he almost convinces her.

**v.** One day, the group chat lights up with an enthusiastic, all capital letters message from Rebe telling them all to find a way to put some money aside in the next few weeks, because they have tickets to buy for August.

As it turns out, her mother’s renting her a house in Rio, and no matter in which end of the world they were planning on spending their summer, they all need to bring their asses to Brazil for two weeks, or, apparently, they’ll be sorry.

Knowing Rebe, that’s not an empty threat.

The whole flight, Lu’s going on and on about all the caipirinhas she’ll drink, the superb tan she’s planning on coming back with, and the Brazilian boys that she’ll find to forget that waste of a time that was Luke. 

Nadia smiles.

First, Lu does, in fact, deserve much more than that Luke idiot, and it’s nice to see her realizing that at last. She’s also physically incapable of hiding how excited she is herself. A part of her knows how ridiculous this is, but she doesn’t really care.

They’re all even more beautiful than she remembers, and if Omar complains that he can’t breathe, she’s hugging him so hard, well, he’ll have to deal with it. She’s missed him too damn much to let go.

In the chaos of the big reunion, her eyes finally find his, for the first time in two years.

It feels odd. It feels good, and long over due.

Guzmán wraps her up in his arms and picks her off the ground, and Nadia feels like she can’t hold him close enough.

The house is amazing, the view even more so, and that first night, between the lights and the stars and the laughs, it all feels like a dream.

Her hand finds Rebeka’s on the wooden terrace as her friend tells her about her first big break up, the first guy that she’s loved, really loved. She listens, and Rebe listens as well, their feet dangling on the edge, the party a soothing background noice. 

When she gets up - ‘ _because that glass is empty, and no glass of mine is going to be empty on that vacation’_ \- Nadia stays here for a few more minutes, enjoying the sight of the moonlighted bay and the fresh air against her skin. 

She’s about to go back to the others when he slides next to her, making sure to shake his damp hair so that she gets a taste of the pool as well.

“You’re an idiot,” she chuckles, pushing against is equally wet arm. “Towels came with the house, you know.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Right - I almost forgot ‘half naked as much as socially accepted’ _is_ one of your life rules, after all,” she nods, faking seriousness, and he plays along.

“Gotta be true to what you believe in, Nadia. Plus, London doesn’t leave much opportunities for that, so.”

She gives him a pointed look, and his cheeky grin is back. “Alright, maybe I do find some, but at least when I do it, it’s only my shirt. I’m really not the worse one, you know - some of those English guys are just _nuts_ ,” and she chuckles.

Unfortunately, she’s seen more bumps and other dangling attributes in students parties than she would have liked in New-York, herself.

“So, how is it going, over there? Aside all the English backsides you get to see, of course.”

“Well, as you know, I did ace my second year, so yay for that, I guess,” he smiles. 

He makes it sounds as a joke, but she knows getting it right is important to him, and he’s doing it. She's never been prouder.

“I still think their weather is complete shit, but I really do love London. I mean, the energy, the people...You really feel good there, you know?” 

He stares at her a second too long before his eyes leave hers, dropping to his knees instead. “I’m seeing someone.”

And the thing is, she knows. Has known for a while.

It’s been in her mind more times than she’d like to admit, in fact, but she’s always known it would happen, eventually. It had to. Besides, he deserves it. He deserves to be happy, he really does, and he has so much to give, too. It’s all for the best.

Still, hearing him say it still feels like he’s just wrenched her heart out of her chest. She figured it would.

“I know,” she smiles as he looks back at her. “And don’t worry - Rebe already told me about her coming at the end of the trip.”

She’d wanted to know if it was alright with her before agreeing to anything, and Nadia loves her all the more for it. “It’s Julie, right?”

It feels weird, talking about this, and she can tell it’s the same for him. She doesn’t want it to be, though - no matter how separated they get, how far they drift, she can’t not know about his life. Doesn’t think she ever could.

No matter how hard it can be, she doesn’t want that for them.

He nods, and tells her a little about her - making sure to keep it brief, she notices. She’s English, plays tennis, and they’ve been friends since he entered LSE. Nadia had noticed they seemed close, even back then.

“What about you?” he asks, changing the subject. “Are American guys better than us?” She snorts.

“I’m not sure ‘better’ is the right word. And not much, really...A summer thing last year, that briefly turned into an autumn thing. Then, one really awkward date arranged by Lucrecia herself, then courses got really intense and kept all of our attentions elsewhere, thank God,” and he laughs.

They’re quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts, before she turns to him again. 

“I’m happy for you, Guzmán. I really am.”

(The vacation consists in sightseeings, beaches, and pools and long nights and smiles, a thousand of them. 

Nadia wonders if it will always be there - that pull, that urge to grab his hand as they all walk down the streets, to thread her fingers in his hair. Those stolen looks. The goosebumps, that desire to be closer, always closer, to win a smile.

Sometimes, she even thinks she can feel his eyes on her, too. The briefest touches, the proximity that could be avoided.

But then Julie arrives, beautiful and radiant and smart, and he looks happy. 

Nadia reminds herself that that’s what she wants for him, and thinks of words she had uttered to him in what now seem like an eternity ago.

 _You have to get used to not always getting what you want._ )

**vi.** The last two years of her program fly by.

Her Master degree is demanding, and between that, and her job, and her attempts at keeping something vaguely ressembling a social life, it feels like everything has been put on fast forward.

Most days, she’s exhausted, but she’s happy. She’s never been more sure of her path, and if she tries not to let her hopes get too high, too fast, Nadia can always feel her cheeks heat at her teachers’ praises.

She still can’t believe it, sometimes, but one day at a time, she gets closer to her goals.

Adrien is good for her. Lu introduced them, a friend of a friend. It’s been almost a year now, and she still doesn’t miss an occasion to brag about her matching talent whenever the opportunity arises. 

He’s met Omar, has even met her parents the last time they were here, and they actually get along.

He just started working for a TV network, does the best lasagna she’s ever tasted, and insists on doing things like taking her on get away week ends, ‘ _because at some point you do have to look up from those books, Nadia_.’

She really, really likes him. 

Brazil was more than two and a half years ago now, and at the exception of Omar and Ander (and, of course, Lu), Nadia has only seen the band once since, during a vacation back home that felt too short and too bittersweet.

Again, life gets in the way - more and more so as time goes by.

Rebe should be coming next July though, and she’s glad. Samu still texts sometimes, and Valerio - well, everything is on Instagram, really, and things seem to be pretty good.

Guzmán seems to be fine, too. Aside from birthdays, they don’t talk much, not anymore, but she thinks he’s doing good.

He did call her, once. She’d been hesitant to pick up, at first, it’d been so long, but she did, and they talked for hours. He was telling her about one of his misadventures in the subway when she realized just how much she had missed his voice.

She’d call him, too, once, on an afternoon where the pression seemed a little too suffocating, the homesickness a little too strong, everything a little too out of place. If he’d noticed how her words trembled sometimes, he didn’t mention it, and she was grateful.

From his Instagram and comments on the group chats, she thinks he’s not with Julie anymore. The new girl seems lovely too, though.

It’s all fine, even if it’s far from what their seventeen year-old selves wanted oh so badly. It isn’t some sort of Greek tragedy, or something worthy of the movies - things just ran their natural courses, and that led to her here in New-York, and him, at the other side of the Atlantic.

It was just the way it was, and Nadia has learnt to accept it.

She’s learnt to focus on her goals, on the present, and on what she has - great friends, a healthy family, and, in two weeks, her graduation from Columbia, a major step towards her future at the UN. It feels nice.

Life is good.

**vii.** It’s been two months since graduation, one since her parents went back to Spain, and two weeks since she and Lu have moved into their new appartment when he shows up.

He has the audacity to look cocky, sitting here on their building stairs while - well, she’s not sure what’s she doing, really. Staring, probably.

It’s...unexpected. And unreal, and unsettling - just like he’s always been. 

She’s almost getting nervous when he frowns, serious. “You’re not having a stroke, are you? Because really, I didn’t come here to witness the marvel that is the American medical system from up close.”

And, just like that, she’s rolling her eyes, and Guzmán’s laughing, and all the tension disappears as Nadia tries to keep her own grin from her face. She’s pretty sure she fails.

“My grand-parents on my dad’s side moved to Florida last year,” he explains once they’re upstairs, thanking her for the coke.

He compliments the flat even though it’s tiny and probably nothing compared to what he has in London, and Nadia tries to ignore how right he feels, leaning like that on their diner table.

Guzmán smiles, the blue in his eyes even brighter than she remembers. “I went to see them before schools starts again, and I thought I’d take the opportunity to come say hi. You didn’t really think a text was all you were going to get for something as big as graduating from Columbia, did you?”

Nadia snorts, but her chest feels warm.

“So your big present is yourself, right?” He opens his arms wide, very proud of himself.

“In the flesh, and for two whole days - my flight leaves on Monday morning.”

She huffs a breath. “Lucky me.”

“I know, right?”

Nadia leans on her elbows and towards him, head tilded to the side. He does the same, and the fact that he looks so adorable mocking her bugs her.

“How do you know I don’t have any plans this week-end?” He winces.

“Yeah, I’ll admit it that’s the one flaw of the plan.” Then, shrugs. “But I figured I’d try, anyway. If you’re busy, I’ll just find something to do, don’t worry - it’s New-York, I’ll be fine.”

He does look fine, innocent, even, but both of them know that she won’t miss an opportunity to spend a couple of days with him. Not when he came just for her, not after so many years.

(Not ever.)

 _Idiot_ , she thinks. Nadia’s just not sure whether she’s refering to him or herself.

They go out for diner, and on the way back, she realizes he’s stopped walking, and takes a couple of steps back to glance at what he’s looking at.

“You can sleep at our place, if you want.” His eyes leave the hotel lobby to meet hers, and she just shrugs “I told you - Lu’s on vacation. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind you sleeping in her bedroom, it’s fine.” 

Later, she’s putting sheets and a towel in his hands when he asks.

“It is okay that I’m here though, right?”

She’s about to make a joke, but when she looks up, his eyes are serious, something like doubt shining in them, and she knows he’s not just asking about the appartment.

Her expression softens. “Of course it is.”

Saturday passes by in a blur. They go out for lunch, enjoy the sun in Central Park, do tourist things, walk around. She shows him her favorite spots in the city, and it’s nice, catching up.

She’d missed him. She almost forgot how easyit feels, being with him. Comfortable. The word is ‘right,’ really, but she's not going to go there.

When the sun sets and they’re laughing on a rooftop, lights and music and chatters all around, she asks him when he intends on offering her a drink for her accumplishments at Columbia.

At his raised eyebrows, she holds up one finger, firm. “Just one - for a special occasion.”

It ends up being two, and she puts her hand on the middle of his face to make his mocking grin go away. 

On their way home, she feels a little lighter, a little happier. Much like she has all day, she tries to pretend it doesn’t have anything to do with his smile, his fingers brushing her skin, his smell.

When they’re chatting on her couch, their heads against the cushions, tired and smiling, and she closes the distance and kisses him, it becomes much harder to do.

It’s chaste, short. When she backs up just a little, Guzmán’s eyes are still closed.

“You...you’ve been drinking,” he breathes out, voice barely audible as he finally looks at her.

She has. And she hasn’t planned this. She hasn’t, and she shouldn’t, and her mind should be reeling right now. Yet, to her surprise, there’s not an ounce of panic in sight - just a sense of content, and an aching want deep in her stomach.

She smiles. “Just enough to do what I’ve been wanting to for a while.” She can see in his eyes that he remembers those words, too.

Their first kiss, a lifetime ago.

His fingers come to rest on her neck, his forehead on hers. He breathes her in, and Nadia feels a thrill running from the tip of head to the end of her toes.

“Are you sure?”

A rush of affection pierces through her chest at his words, and, smiling so wide, it actually hurts, Nadia brings her lips to his cheek, then to his lips, once, twice, as much as she can.

She’s on his lap, gets ride of her shirt, struggles against his, bites his neck when he makes fun of her. She’s not entirely sure how they make it to her bed, but they do, and when he gets ride of her jeans and crawls back up to her, he stares at her for just a moment, and her breath gets caught in her throat.

Guzmán kisses her stomach, her breasts, her shoulder, her jaw, slowly, almost religiously. By the time he finally reaches her lips again, her heart’s threatening to burst out of her chest, and she responds in earnest, not leaving any space between them, her nails raking through his hair.

And then, he’s everywhere, everything, and there’s just no words.

It’s all touches, soft moans, whispered words they’ll probably have to pretend to forget in the light of day, but for now, Nadia allows herself to stop thinking, her whole world resolving around him, him, _him_.

“There’s supposed to be someone,” she confesses the next morning. 

He takes his time looking at her, his eyes going from her lips to her eyes lazily, as if they have all the time in the world. Her cup of coffee is hot in her hands, but Nadia knows that that warmth in her body has more to do with the simple feel of his naked shoulder against hers, covered with his shirt, than anything else.

It’s ridiculous, how something so simple as sitting next to him at her table can make her feel more than she has in months.

“’Supposed to’?,” he eventually asks.

“I’m not in love with him.”

Her answer comes easily, too easily, probably, but then again, she’s known for a while. If she didn’t, the fact that she’d texted Adrien she couldn’t join him to his parents’ countryside home after all as soon as Guzmán had shown up, without a second thought, would have been pretty telling, anyway.

He looks at her for a few beats after that. She’s always been pretty good at reading him, his feelings always written unapologetically on his face. Not this time, though.

He kisses her nose, then, soft, always so soft when it comes to her. He does it again before letting his head drop with a sigh, and Nadia lets hers fall on his shoulder.

_I’m not in love with him - I’m in love with you._

“It’s not easy, isn’t it.”

She chuckles humorlessly. “No - it’s really not.”

**viii**. Three weeks later, she starts grad school. The second semester has to be abroad, and London’s on the list.

It’s almost scary, how she doesn’t hesitate, not even for one second.

**ix**. It doesn’t take her long to understand that it’s been one of thoses days.

She's taking a bath, allowing herself to relax after a relentless week filled with paperwork, endless back and forths with the institutions, paperwork and more paperwork, when she hears him come in. 

Or rather, struggle in. He must have tripped over something, because then there's the sound of something falling, followed by a mumbled swear, and a foot kick.

She smiles. "Do you need some help over there?" He mumbles again, and, three seconds later, enters the bathroom, and Nadia tries not to chuckle.

"Hi." There's an annoyed frown on his pretty little face, and she drops her book and reaches for him, itching to make it go away.

She loves that part.

"Hi," he whispers against her lips, and he lingers a little as she runs her fingers on his nape. He backs away, ever so slightly, "How was your day?"

"Great: our client finally got his visa,” and she smiles at both the relief that it is, and at the way he congratulates her sincerely, happy for her despite his mood. ”Care to join me and tell me how shitty yours was?"

He groans. "More than you know."

He undresses right there, and rolls his eyes when she whistles, angling her head just so. It does get her a small smile, though, and she considers it as her first victory of the night.

Guzmán can't help his sigh as he settles against her in the warm water, back to her chest, and she wraps her legs and arms around his muscular frame. His heads drops on her shoulder, his eyes falling shut when she kisses his cheek gently, her joined hands falling over his stomach.

She does it over and over, slowly making her way to the spot where his jaw meets his ear. She feels his entire body relax, and she nuzzles him, chuckling. "Looks like someone already got a shower." 

"Forgot my umbrella again - I got soaked on the way home,” he explains, bitter.

"I can see that - dive." He does as he’s told, and when he comes back up, his head settles back on the same spot with a soft moan of pleasure.

She starts moving her fingers back and forth in his hair in a soothing motion. They’re longer now, just like when they first met, with the sides a little shorter.

He’s handsome, incredibly so, and even if she knows it’s not good for his ego, she can’t help but tell him how much, sometimes.

They stay silent for a while and she thinks he's fallen asleep, but as soon as her fingers still, he whines. "Don't stop."

She rolls her eyes fondly - _God_ , him and his hair thing. Although to be fair, it would be lying to say she didn't enjoy it, too. She happily obliges, and he kisses the side of her neck lazily as a thank you.

"You left early this morning."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that - I had a lot to get done today."

"It's okay," she whispers, legs unwrapping and entangling with his. "But you look exhausted. And I'm thinking the big boss loosing it didn’t help, huh?" 

Guzmán snorts. “I heard he gets like this at every important deadline, but man...He yelled at _every_ single person that had the misfortune to cross his path today. I mean, I literally threw myself in a closet to avoid him, at one point,” and she laughs at that.

Just like she’s interning as part of her first year of grad school, Guzmán’s doing the same, as LSE requires for the last semester. He alternates between courses and work, and the company he managed to get in fits perfectly. He’s liked, he likes his colleagues and his work, and the experience will look great on his resume, but the last couple of weeks have been demanding, to say the least. He never complains, however, giving himself as much as needed. Trying as much as he can, she knows, to prove himself.

He’s succeeding, not because of his name, of his parents, but because he’s working for it, and it means a lot to him.

"And then, I almost got run over, I spilled coffee all over Jenny and myself, and I didn't eat because I was too busy running around all day."

Okay: definitely the right to be grumpy. She moves her hands up and down his arms, fingers briefly gripping his.

"Well, if it helps, I think you’ll be able to get free drinks from Charlie all night tomorrow," she tries to joke, both arms looping around his neck. “I talked to Tara earlier, and she said he was so upset you left the pub so early on Wednesday, she swears she saw a tear.”

He chuckles and gives her a real smile, and Nadia grins at the sight. He finally opens his eyes, precious little blue things looking up at her, and she kisses his temple. "I love you. So, now that we agreed that you’ll get properly wasted at your friend’s expense tomorrow, how about take out and a movie tonight?"

"Sounds great. Five more minutes, though." 

He closes his eyes again, and lets his head fall back on her shoulder. She’s happy to let him.

**x.** Today marks her third month in London, and Nadia has grown to love the city as much as he does. The buses, the people, the accent, the museums, the warmth and cheers of the bars. She loves it all, even if she’s pretty sure that sense of belonging, of things being finally just _right_ doesn’t only come from that.

There’s fingers interlaced in the subway, grumpy mumbles when he’s running late on the morning, the gleam behind his eyes when he’s drinking a pint with Charlie. There’s soft words whispered in the crook of her neck, Mario Kart competitions she can never win, laughs under the shower, and she finds it amazing, how a person entire happiness can come from - depend on - small things like that.

For the first time in her life, it seems like everything’s aligned, and that she finally has everything she needs, without concession.

It’s thrilling. It’s frightening.

Summer won’t be long now, and Guzmán thinks they should take a trip somewhere in Northern Europe. She should focus on that - she tries.

After all, she still has one month of her internship left, and after that, there’s those three blissfull months of summer where they’ll both be free - her, before starting her final year of grad school, him, before looking for his first job.

But March turns into April, April into May, and it’s not just those little things and those sunny memories to be made, anymore. Reality comes creeping in again. 

Maybe it’s just her, maybe it’s not as she thinks. 

Still, the fear keeps growing.

**xi.** It feels like they fight for hours.

It’s bad.

“I can’t do that anymore, Nadia,” he finally says. His words are soft, yet they seem to echo in the weighed silence that stand between them. He looks tired - drained.

She wants to hug him, hide her face in his chest and forget everything. Apologize, make it all go away, and just go back to the way things are.

She doesn’t.

When she leaves, Nadia pretends to ignore the hole in her chest and his hunched figure in the corner of her eyes, and closes the door.

**xii.** Her whole last year of grad school, it feels like she’s on automatic. Courses, work, lunches, studying, her friends. A couple of nights out to let out some steam, occasionnaly. Rewind and repeat.

Her goal is so close, she can almost brush it with her fingertips already. On nights when sleep doesn’t come and she can’t breathe quite right, she wonders if that’s how achieving one’s long-life dream is supposed to feel like.

That day, her parents’ eyes are shining with pride and tears. As she cries in Omar’s arms, she wishes she could do a better job at convincing herself that it all comes from hapiness.

He holds her that much closer, and she knows she hasn’t convinced him, either.

Still, she smiles for the camera, the sun high in the New-York sky, her family by her side.

After seven years, she, Nadia Shanaa, the poor Muslim girl from Las Encinas, has graduated.

It’s a shame her heart is aching so much.

(Thanks to one of her hold teachers, she gets a meeting. It goes well, and she gets an intership. When she enters the headquarters of the United Nations, she can’t help the grin on her face.)

(It’s hard, it’s demanding, it’s exhilarating - it’s everything she has ever dreamt of, and more.

She’s lost count of the times where she almost reached for her phone, dying to share everything with him.

It’s more difficult than it used to be, pretending that maybe a high school love was all this could be, that they’d grown from that and that life’s all fine. So, at one point, she stops pretending, and just prays and hopes that she’ll be able to move on sooner rather than later.)

**xiii.** Her father dies early on a Monday morning.

With the time difference, she finds out in the middle of the night, the words her brother can’t bring himself to pronounce more telling than the one he does. She’s at the airport by sunrise. There’s something heavy pressing hard, so hard on her chest, and she feels like she’s suffocating. 

When she lands, it’s a little like the first time she came back to Spain, all those years ago. Surreal.

Even now that she’s here, in the cab, the familiar sights drawing themselves under her eyes, she can’t quite believe it, can’t make sense of it. She opens the shop’s door, the word _‘closed_ ’ dangling from it as she does, makes her way to the house. 

Despite how early it is, they’re both up, and as soon as she sees them, it does - it gets real.

She hears more than feel her bag slipping from her fingers, and falls back against the sofa.

Her father is dead.

They’ve probably been there the whole time, but she only notices their presence at the end of the burial. Standing a little removed from the parting crowd, handsome in their dark suits.

Ander, Samu. Guzmán.

She must be seeing things, because it doesn’t make sense - it’s the middle of the week, and he should be in London, working, and not in the cemetary where _Baba_ will now rest forever. Not after the terrible things she’s said, no after what she’s done.

It doesn’t make sense.

But they get closer, Omar’s hand on her back gently guiding her, and she realizes she’s really not hallucinating. Her eyes are glued to him the whole way. His are kind, and gentle, and full of compassion.

When his arms close around her, Nadia breaks down.

**xiv.** Her train arrives early, but she doesn’t mind. She’s got work to do, she’ll keep busy.

For months, she’s used it as a way to deal with her grief, resting only when her eyes couldn’t keep open anymore, or when Lu put a stop sign, her eyes kind but unwavering as she demanded Nadia get some sleep. She’s coming of that phase, but still - there’s a lot to be done, as always.

She’s a working diplomat now. Her mother says _Baba_ would be proud.

Nadia can’t help the small smile on her face as she gets out of the station. The sky is a threatening grey, and she has to tighten her coat around her, it’s so cold. Still, she missed it.

She must have been here for a couple of hours when the small bell rings, and she looks up to see him enter. Their eyes lock right away, and she’s hit with that familiar ache, that longing that burns a hole in her stomach.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She gets up as he finally gets to the table, and for a couple of seconds, neither of them knows what to do. He kisses her cheek, eventually, and it’s all awkward chuckles and glances, but she doesn’t let it unsettle her.

Guzmán sits, his huge frame almost out of place in the small, quiet café, as it always has been.

“Thank you for coming - for agreeing to see me,” she says, sincere. She would have understood if he had refused, truly.

He shrugs, even if she’s certain there’s something close to apprehension behind both his voice and small smile. “Of course. How long have you been in London?” he gestures to her small luggage.

“Just a few hours, actually - I was in Paris for work for a week. I’m only here for the day. My plane leaves tonight.”

“Yeah, I heard you were a grown-up diplomat now.” His smile is sincere. “Congratulations - you made it.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice, but his words cut deep. Still, Nadia wills a smile to her face, even if she can’t manage the thanks she should.

“I’m sorry I made you come down here on your lunch break.” It was the only thing she could thing of, though. They both knew casual drinks or friendly diners aren’t an option for them, not anymore. “I’ll be brief, I promise.”

Her heart is beating fast, so fast.

She takes a couple of breaths to slow it down, and when she looks back at him, she thinks she can see the anxiousness she’s feeling mirroring on his own face. 

A shiver runs through her spine, and Nadia squares her shoulders. _It’s time._

“I’m sorry, Guzmán.” His jaw tightens in the slightest, almost as if she’s just started the exact conversation he wanted to avoid.

She forces her fingers not to fidget. “I’m sorry, and I shouldn’t have waited so long to say it. I’m - I’m sorry for the way I left, for what I said. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I think I’ll never have the words for how grateful I am that you still showed up for me at my worst moment despite all of that.”

He’s shaking his head before the protest even leaves his lips. “Nadia, of course I came. There’s - “

“No, please. Please - just let me say this, okay?”

She gives him a small smile, and Guzmán nods silently. “You didn’t have to come. You didn’t, and I didn’t expect you to because I didn’t deserve it, but - But I guess I should have, because the truth is, you’ve always been there. No matter what.”

She told him they couldn’t be together, and he fought so that she could stay at their school.

She reached out to him, kissed him, slept with him, walking away everytime, and everytime, he forgave her.

She put an end to their story before it even begun because of something that wasn’t even his fault, and he accepted it.

She chose someone else, and he was the first to get up and clap for her, a huge smile on his face, when she got into Columbia.

All of this while dealing with the death of a sister he loved unconditionnally, and with the anger and pain and desperation that came with it.

Always. He had always, _always_ been there. 

“You’ve always been there,” Nadia says again. “Supporting me and waiting for me. And you did so even if I was keeping us apart for the wrong reasons, even if I was too eager to play the part of the perfect daughter when I should have known better.” 

She takes an imperceptible breath before her next words, guilt and regret heavy on her chest. “I know I’ve never been good at showing you how I feel, even less at owning up to it. But when I told you I’d came back for you, I meant it.” 

She sees something flicker behind his eyes at that, but he doesn’t interrupt her.

“Of course I did.” She huffs, shaking her head at ther own stupidity. “Did you know that my first year in New-York, you were probably the main reason I didn’t lose it? I mean, of course everything was great, I had what I wanted. But sometimes, it got hard. Because of everything that happened, because I was homesick. Because Columbia were even more demanding than I expecting, and I had this job on the side...But at the end of the day, it was okay, because I knew the week end was coming, and I’d get to see your face - even if it was just on Skype.” 

She pauses for a few seconds, her eyes lowering to the table. “You don’t know how many times I almost did - how many times I almost asked you to come to New-York with me. I’d done the research, too - I looked up Columbia’s finance programs, NYC’s. I got the brochures, and they were burning a hole on my night stand, but I...I couldn’t stop thinking about how you had dreams to pursue, too. Studies you wanted to chose for yourself, a new life, and - ”

“I never cared what school I went to, Nadia,” he cuts, and the surprise makes her look up again. “You know that. If you’d asked me, I would have come in a hearbeat. And if I didn’t get New-York, I would have waited for you, as long as it took. Please don’t use that as an excuse.”

His voice is almost hard, and it startles her. Then again, he has every right. 

After all, years and years following her lead and pretending like everything was fine didn’t mean that he was okay with it. She knew that - knows that, and has been more happy to pretend otherwise until now. 

“I know. I’m - ”

“Please don’t say ‘sorry’ again.”

So, she doesn’t. Nadia swallows hard, taking the blow. 

“You’re right - it was an excuse. The best I could find, I guess. Because the truth is...I was scared shitless.” _I still am._ “More than I ever been, because - we’d never been together. Not really. And I couldn’t take the chance of you moving to NYC for me, centering you entire future around me, only for you to discover that it wasn’t worth it. I was scared that everything would be great until it wasn’t, and that I’ll then have to figure out a way to survive you. I was scared to put you first when I had always promised myself to remember where I came from, and focus on my career and my goals. I was scared to become even more dependant than I already was, because that’s something I nerver wanted, but I was - relying on you, needing you. I mean, all it took was your name lighting up on my phone to make my day feel better, no matter how shitty it could get.” 

Her heart’s in her throat, and the next words come out softer than she expected them to, her eyes fixed on his. “How stupid is that, right?”

They stare at each other for a moment. She can’t read his face, and realizes she can’t even read herself right now. 

Shaking her head, she just goes on. “Anyway. Just a lot of words to say I was too much of a coward, I suppose. And I guess seeing that you were happy should have been enough to - ”

But Guzmán scoffs, something close to bitterness in his voice. “’ _Happy?’_ Where the hell did you get that from? From the couple of times we’ve seen each other during college, or from the handful of texts we exchanged?”

She opens her mouth stupidly, no words coming to her, but it’s a rhetorical question, anyway.

“I moved on because I had to, Nadia. That doesn’t mean it was easy, least of all that is was okay.” He shakes his head, exhaling a humorless laugh. “Remember that time I called you out of the blue a couple of years ago, even though we hadn’t spoken for months?”

She does. She nods.

“I had to hear your voice,” he says simply.

It’s a good thing he’s not done, because the lump in her throat makes it difficult to even breathe, let alone speak.

“It was Marina. And Polo, and everything I guess - I’d never felt so low since all that shit happened, it lasted for days. I had that weight on my chest that kept lifting just enough for me to breathe, only to weigh up again and threaten to suffocate me, and the only person I wanted to talk to was you. I tried not to - I tried doing the right thing and turning to the girl that should have been the only one in my mind at the time, but - it was you.”

He plants his eyes right into hers. “How stupid is that, right?”

There’s a pause when she’s not quite sure what to do. Not quite sure she fully realizes what’s happening right now, everything finally laid out on the table. Her heart hammering in her chest suddenly seems loud, so loud.

When he speaks again, Guzmán’s voice is softer.

“I never resented you, Nadia. Never. If you being happy meant I couldn’t be with you, I was more than willing to accept it. I did. But you can’t come here, saying you’ve never stop loving me, and that you were just scared I didn’t feel the same and that we couldn’t make it work.”

He pauses again, and she gathers the courage to look back up at him. It’s even harder than she thought. “I mean, if that’s true - what about last time?”

And here it is. It was bound to happen, eventually. It’s what she came for, in the end.

“What happened last time then, Nadia?”, he says again, and the hurt and incomprehension in his eyes bring her back to that terrible night, a year and a half ago. “Because we were happy - we were, right?, “ and her own eyes are burning now.

She can’t cry, though - she doesn’t get to. 

"We had it figure it out, we made it work. And I was finished with school, I could have gone anywhere, and this could finally be it - everything aligned, and you just left.”

She can’t tear his eyes from his, can’t look away. She can’t move when all she wants to do is throw herself at him, can’t find the rights words, because there is none. She wants to apologize over and over again, but she knows that would be of no use.

There is no excuse, no reason for leaving him so suddenly and so brutally, none other than her eternal, damn angst and fear, so she tells him that.

“You keep choosing to walk away. Just once, I wish you’d chosen me instead.” 

At that point, Guzmán doesn’t look mad anymore. She’s not sure what he is, because it feels like everything hurts, and she can’t concentrate.

“I do love you, you know,” she still says, erasing the tear that has finally escaped with one quick brush of her hand. Today is supposed to be about the truth, so she might as well tell him.

“And for what it’s worth, I wish I’d chosen you too - I really do. Life probably wouldn’t be this shitty if I did.”

**xv.** A couple of month pass before she’s back to Europe, this time not so much because of work, but because of the pleading puppy that Samu has become. 

He wants to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday right, and for that, he needs them all, or so he says. He’s checked the flights to find her the nicest deal, argued brillantly that taking a Friday off won’t get her laid off, and has relentlessly guilt tripping her into saying yes. Which she did.

When she lands, she goes straight to her mother’s, and spends the day with her before leaving for Rebeca’s mom’s place, all theirs for the week-end. There’s a weight in her chest, although it doesn’t make sense. She should be relieved Guzmán can’t make it.

What would she have said to him, anyway? 

A question she doesn’t have the answer to, but that gets answered, anyway, when the sun is already coming down, and the music and chatters are going up.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” is the first stupid thing that comes out of her mouth as she takes him in, standing there with a brown jacket and a drink in his hand.

She cringes internally, both at her gaping expression and at how wrong the words have come out, making it sound as if that was the only reason she came herself.

But Guzmán’s eyes are gentle, almost amused, not a trace of resentment on his face. 

“Hi to you, too. And no, I wasn’t supposed to, at first - a bit busy. But I figured Samu would have had my head if I didn’t.” He shrugs. “Plus, the boxing process is finally over, so I had some time.”

“Boxing process? Did you sell the apartment?” She can’t help but feel a stupid disappointment at the thought - she loves that place.

“Not, I just rent it now,” he explains, smiling a little at her expression. “I couldn’t bring myself to get ride of it.”

“Are you switching neighbourhood?”

His smile does get a bit bigger a that, but then there’s a scream from the other side of the room, and they both turn to see a fairly drunk Ander zooming in on Guzmán, arms wide opened. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” And, just like that, he’s gone, leaving her here with her soda and the smile she hopes looks more real than it feels.

At least she knows they can talk, now. It’s a bit weird, a bit painful, but they can. She’s glad.

Her eyes are burning, but then someone drags her by the arm, and as Rebe holds her close, dancing to the music, Nadia’s smile grows sincere.

The night goes well. Samu is drunk, and happy, and when he blows his candles, she thins she hasn’t seen him smile so wide in a long time.

She really is having a good time, and if her eyes sometimes look for a tall frame in the crowd, or her body shiver when she hears his laugh next to the kitchen, she tells herself that at least, she’s handling it.

She’s proud of herself. She doesn’t want things to change in the band when they see each other, especially given how rarely that happen these days.

It’s painful, but she’s handling it. 

She’s getting her jacket from Rebe’s room when there’s a knock on the opened door, and her heart skips a beat.

“Sorry - I didn’t mean to startle you,” and she chuckles nervously, waving him off.

“It’s fine. Did you want something?” she motions to the bed full of coats and bags, ready to reach for whatever he’s looking for.

“No - actually, I wanted to talk to you,” and her eyes go up to his on their own accord.

Guzmán takes a couple of step forward, and it’s ridiculous, really, that anxiety, that stress. That ache. “It’s just - We got cut off her, earlier, and I kind of needed your advice on something.”

Nadia’s surprised, but smiles. “Shoot.”

“Well, I know you’re a walking guide to every neighbourhood you live in for more than a couple of weeks, so I was wondering if you could give me some nice adresses on my new one.”

She snorts. “I can give it a try, but I think your six years in London make you more an expert than I am.”

“Not relevant.”

“Well, unless you’re looking for quiet cafés with nice tea to work in, I’m really not sure - “

“I”m moving to Brooklyn.”

Four words, and in an instant, the air is knocked out of her lungs.

She’s not sure how long she stares, standing here like an idiot. He’s gotten even closer, she thinks, and she can see his freckles, the details of his face, now a little more sobered up.

“You what?”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, fixed on her wide ones. Her heart is beating so hard, so loud in her chest, she can barely hear his next words.

“Yeah, I thought a change of scenery would be nice. From Monday to Friday, I’m on operations’ moving in and starting the job hunt’, which is probably going to be a bitch. But if you’re free...can I take you out next week end?”

**epilogue.**

She’s writing down an appointment in her notebook when it hits her. 

This month, it’s been ten years she’s left high school.

A decade. It’s insane. Shocking, at first, of course, because damn it - she’s getting _old_. Twenty-seven isn’t really that bad, she knows that, but still, the thirties are almost here. It’s odd, too - she feels like she’s lived so much, like so much has happened. Surely, it can’t all have taken place in so little time.

“Well, it looks like New-Zealand is going to have to wait a little longer.” 

Just like that, Nadia’s taken out of her reverie, and looks up at his moody face as he comes back to take his place next to her.

Guzmán heavily drops on the uncomfortable airport seat with a groan, and gets a hold of her legs, placing them on his lap again, his hand resting on her knees.

“No news, huh?”

“Oh, there’s news alright - the flight is delayed for another _two hours_ , which brings us to a grand total of eight hours of delightful waiting,” and she can’t help chuckle at the mix of annoyance, desperation and fatigue on his face.

He looks adorable.

Drapping her arms around his neck, Nadia brings him close, her fingers holding on to his hair, and peppers him with kisses everywhere she can reach - his right cheek, his temple, his nose. He turns his head to stole one on his lips, and lets his head fall in the small space between her chest and her chin.

“Come on, get some sleep - I’ll wake you when it’s time,” she whispers, her fingertips gently grazing his nape. He mumbles something about the vacation being ruined before it even begins, but still leans into her, a grateful sigh on his lips when she lays a last kiss in his hair.

They’ll be fine - they have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedbacks are always very much appreciated - thank you to everyone who has commented on my previous fics, it means a lot <3.


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